


Time for Those Who Make Time

by Twelve (Dodici)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: HxHHoliday2020, KilluGonHolidayPresent, M/M, fluff and food and domesticity, post-anime vagueness, unnecessarily detailed fake-holiday, whale island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28191885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dodici/pseuds/Twelve
Summary: On the 21st of December, the people on Whale Island partake in some holiday celebrations. Killua arrives right on time to die of embarrassment.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60
Collections: KilluGon "A Gift From Me To You" Holiday Event





	Time for Those Who Make Time

**Author's Note:**

> I would have never written something festive if left to my own demises, so thanks to [telxrnya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/telrxnya), [reeyachan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeyachan) and [sincerelysamedt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelysamedt) for having me XD (and especially to tele for keeping me awake with puns while I was failing at editing).
> 
> This time of the year can be rough. I hope this fic finds you well, whatever that might mean to you. Take care <3

The teacher looks inside the camera like a very bad actor and Gon startles enough to swing on the chair. He checks that his own mic and camera are still off and sighs.

Killua’s voice is clearly mortified over the constantly crackling line. 

“And then we had to stop for a while because Alluka wasn’t feeling well and I couldn’t—”

“Oh, is she better now?” For some reason this makes the hint of self-deprecation inside Killua’s voice grow even bigger. It definitely wasn’t what Gon was aiming at.

“Yeah, it was just some stomach bug, she’s fine. I mean, she’s dreading the fact that she can’t eat ice cream at the moment, but she’ll survive.”

Gon hums and starts spinning on the chair, legs dangling.

“Good, I’m glad. And are you feeling okay, Killua?”

“I don’t catch stomach bugs, really.”

Or maybe he did catch it, but just ignored it like most of the things that happen to his body; Gon wouldn’t be surprised. And, by the way, it wasn’t what he asked.

“I am sorry about history too, did you—”

The teacher is still speaking, it’s a constant buzzing of dates and names in the background.

“Don’t worry, Killua. I like it when you explain stuff to me, but you don’t—you don’t have to take care of this too, okay? I got it.”

Pause, long.

“Yeah. Sure. I know you do.”

“I’ll get a worse vote for sure but it will still be alright!”

Killua groans really hard, but it’s also way better than hearing him worrying, so that’s fine.

“Where have you guys been this time? You were telling me about that giant canyon—”

“Ah, yeah. But we didn’t visit it, because of the stomach bug. And I didn’t want to stay too long… At least we got to go to this super cool fair and Alluka had too much cotton candy. In retrospect, I think that was the cause of the stomach bug.”

“So your superhuman tolerance to great amounts of candies isn’t a genetic trait?”

“It’s not superhuman, you people are just _weak_.”

“Two thousand jenny of chocorobots,” Gon reminds him, only for Killua to groan.

Gon laughs—gosh, he just needs to ask. It shouldn’t be that difficult.

“Talking about candies, Killua…” he starts and his stomach is prickling; it’s stupid, he feels stupid. He squeezes a ball of air from one cheek to the other.

“Gon? You still there?”

“Yeah!” he says—blurts. Gosh. “It’s just. I wanted to ask you something but you don’t have to say yes…”

“Do you need me to kill somebody?”

Gon moves the phone away from his ear to look at the screen. It ends up being a good move because then Killua can yell “then don’t sound like you do!” without breaking his eardrum.

Gon should tell him ‘actually, this whole long-distance friendship thing is killing me, could you please dispose of my body swiftly like I know you can ’ but he’s almost sixteen. He’s now older than Mito was when she took him in—he can’t _whine_. That’s not what this is about.

“Gon? Fuck this fucking phone—”

“I’m here! I’m still here—duh, listen, Killua!”

“Okay, I’m happy we’ve established that you just like to hear me yell like an idiot inside this stupid thing—”

“I don’t like to hear you yell, I'd like you to come here—I mean, it’s almost the Longest Night on Whale Island and there’s always so much food—”

“Gon? Shit.” The line sounds like grated metal. “Can’t hear you!”

“Killua?”

“Oh, okay—sorry, the connection sucks today. What were you saying? About food?”

Gon's playing Scrabble with broken tiles fished from his broken brain at this point. And throwing them in sparse order in Killua's general geographical direction, which he doesn't even know—good grief.

“Yeah, food! It’s—Aunt Mito bakes the most delicious squid pie…”

“A what pie?”

“Squid! A squid pie!” He breathes out. This is awkward, and difficult. It shouldn’t be so awkward and difficult. Gon feels his eyes prickle and it’s so stupid he starts laughing instead. “Squid pie, and crack conch and doubles…”

“Okay, now I don’t know if I’m just stupid or you aren’t making any fucking sense.”

Gon squirms, chair swirling.

“You’re never stupid, Killua!”

“Then explain stuff to me!”

“Conch—it’s a very big sea snail! Aunt Mito fries them, and makes a bunch of stuff for this holiday that’s called the Longest Night—it’s a Whale Island thing, or at least I’ve never heard of it out of here. And presents happen and we make these lanterns… Those are really pretty. So, yeah, I thought maybe you should come? Only if you want?”

“I think it’s the line, he isn’t making any sense,” Killua says, and he’s surely talking to Alluka at this point. 

Gon is going to spin so hard on this chair that he’ll eject himself right through the window and over the ocean to land on Killua’s lap so that he can just yell inside his ear and be done with the stupid phone.

“It’s food! Come eat good food on the twenty-first of December, okay?”

Mito yells at him from the corridor—she’s going to feed him bread crusts until he’s of age if she catches him on the phone again instead of attending his online classes—and of course that’s the only thing Killua would clearly hear above thousands of kilometers of ether. 

“Gon, shit! You have to tell me when you’re doing school stuff, I could have called later!” 

“Killua, I—only if you want, okay?” Gon says and the words grind his throat. “Talk to Alluka and Nanika first, and—I know Whale Island is pretty boring so it’s okay if you have something better to do, okay?”

“I—”

“I understand,” Gon cuts him, serious. “I’ll be fine either way. Promise, Killua.”

There’s crumpled paper inside Gon’s phone, and maybe all through the sky.

“Geez, you’re so intense,” Killua says in the end, breath thin like he’s talking through gritted teeth. “Alluka, what do you think about squid pie?”

“I like both squids and pies!” Alluka yelps, voice loud on speakers. “Hi Gon! Nanika says hi!”

“Hi guys! Alluka, how are you feeling?”

“I’m all better! I could eat ice-cream no problem."

Killua scoffs.

“Let’s not. Contrary to the popular belief, I don’t really like cleaning up vomit from hotels' carpentry.”

“Brother, that’s mean! And disgusting.”

“I agree it was disgusting, yes,” Killua insists and Gon is laughing bent in two, at this point. He sniffs and plops back on the chair with a solid sigh.

“You’re coming for real?”

Killua sighs too, but it’s a bit too fond to sound truly annoyed.

“It’s what she said, right? We’ll be there.”

Mito peeks inside; her eyes are fire, mouth open and ready to bite Gon’s head off, but she stops on the doorway, arms crossed.

“Okay, then—it’s on the twenty-first,” Gon says, and he babbles a bit, eyes searching for the calendar on his corkboard; it's right beside the photo of himself, Killua and Alluka from the World Tree. “I mean, technically it’s on the twentieth because the night is the most important part, but… Killua?” He frowns and looks at the screen. The call ended without a sound. It isn’t the first time.

He doesn’t even try to call him back—must be some problem with the line, some countries are worse than others and there isn’t much Killua can really do about it.

“If I ever get my nen back, I’ll learn how to enhance frequencies."

“That would be useful for school too,” Mito says, but then her eyes soften as she gives him a half-hearted smack on the nape of his neck. “I’ll have to cook for two armies since Killua is coming, right?”

Gon grins sheepishly just when the teacher comes out of his stupor to announce that the lesson is finished.

*

His phone is dead, his laptop is dead, Aunt Mito has asked him to trim a mountain of string beans: not exactly the most positive day. 

“What do you mean this always happens,” he says, bean plopping inside the bowl. 

Abe smiles from behind the rim of her mug.

“This always happens, dear. Every year.”

Gon frowns, eyes shifting to the phone he carried down with him—these days, he never goes anywhere without. The traitor's still as dead as a dead fish.

Abe sighs, smiling and content. 

“It’s because of the Comeback Current, dear. It’s pretty mysterious, but the Island is completely isolated for a week or so. This is good news! When this happens, nine times out of ten we’ll get a very strong current, and all the lanterns will come back to us.”

The beans seem to grow in front of his eyes; Gon blinks. His phone won’t start magically working again, not even if he looks really intently at it, right?

“But I never—”

“You didn’t have a phone before, Gon. And you never cared about phones in general,” Mito tells him. She’s the one who’s adding new string beans to the mountain, so at least Gon didn’t turn completely mad all of the sudden.

And she’s also right, Gon didn’t have a phone before he went to Yorknew. He never needed one—he used to have no one to call.

It sounds like someone else’s life, to be honest. His nails are all green from the string beans now, but they used to be like that all the time; he used to run around and climb, now he’s just sitting around waiting for—

“This is pretty exciting,” Aunt Mito says, voice serious, eyes intense. “It’s been a while since we were more than three during a holiday, uh? Let’s have a big feast.”

Abe nods like she's appreciating her tea but she smiles when her eyes meet Gon's.

The phone is still dead, but Killua promised. It will be fine.

“Yeah, let’s have fun,” he decides, sure.

That's apparently all Mito needs to start listing all the things they have to do to prepare.

So… not enough time to overthink. That’s pretty nice too.

Gon fills his head with stuff to do—last stretch of homework until it’s winter break, helping out around the house and when that too isn’t enough, he fills his head with salted water and algae.

“What about you try to stay alive at least until Killua arrives?” Mito tells him, and rubs his head harder with the towel.

“I’m fine." Her voice does sound a bit distant—Gon might have half the ocean inside his ears after diving for the whole afternoon. He filled two buckets with queen conch. “Let’s save the prettiest shells for Nanika, she loves them. Do you think it’s enough? I could definitely get more.”

Mito lets the towel fall on his shoulders and sighs.

“Go do something useful now, leave the conch to me,” she says, and she’s already pushing the grocery list in Gon's hand. 

He’d like to call Killua and yell excitedly at the prospect of fritters, but of course the phone is still dead, just like every other phone on the island apart from, apparently, the old radio back at the town hall.

He can’t remember if he told Killua to come on the twentieth or the twenty-first. Actually, he can’t remember a thing of what he said and he feels so stupid. If they won’t come he’ll have to eat half a ton of cracked conch all alone on this tiny island—

“It wasn’t so tiny before,” he says, to the main street that runs across the village, hair still a bit wet under an extremely green beanie that makes his head look like a torpedo.

“I need another bag of flour too,” he explains, loud to old Mauve’s hearing aid. She nods and weighs another spoonful of chickpeas.

“She’s making cracked conch for an army?” she asks, eyes way sharper than her ears.

“Two armies! We’re waiting for guests! Some friends of mine.”

“Oh, Hunter friends? Is it the cute kid with the weird hair? We wondered when he was going to visit again." She nods at her own handiwork as fast as she has stuck the prices onto the baggies.

Gon doesn’t really know what has happened to his face until he’s back out in the street and he catches his blushing cheeks on the closest window.

He sniffs and hides his nose inside the folds of his scarf.

Killua is pretty cute, right. Actually, Gon doesn’t really know since he hasn’t seen his face in so long.

It’s so weird, to think of Killua as ‘the Hunter friend’—Killua is just Killua, anything different sounds somewhat less, and anything more just isn’t possible.

The grocery list is still long; Abe wants very specific rice papers and there’s still all the stuff for the presents. How much chocolate is enough chocolate for Killua? And maybe that isn't a problem Gon can solve, not even with all the chocolate on Whale Island, but he’s going to try for sure.

*

Abe picks up a sheet of paper and considers it like it’s fish at the market.

“Really nice,” she declares, and folds it in half on the coffee table.

“They’ll be here,” Mito says, when Gon spills a bit of tea because he was too busy throwing nervous glances at his phone—he just has to be sure that there’s no signal at all, okay?

He nods and places his mug on the floor so that he doesn’t risk wetting the paper.

“Yeah, and I wasn’t specific at all—I just told them that there were going to be food and candies...”

Mito hums and she starts folding a sheet of paper too.

“You’ve never been good at this,” Abe tells her, with a sweet, sweet smile as she fails to fold the right angle.

“We’re the last people to make our own lanterns, Grandma. Kona’s family bought them already done back at the market.”

Abe deadpans like she's talking in another language and keeps on folding.

Gon grabs a sheet too. It's smooth and see-through, but thick enough that folding it precisely is a bit of a struggle. He stretches the crease with the pad of his thumb. Alluka would have liked to help, but Nanika would have squealed in delight, because she just loves touching and building things, and Killua—Killua would have made that enthralled, impossibly soft expression he gets whenever his sisters are enjoying themselves, like nothing on the vast universe gives him the same happiness.

When he raises his head, Aunt Mito has picked up his phone and she’s fumbling with it.

“Aunt Mito, what—”

“Say hi,” she says, face scrunched in concetration. “I think I’ve learned how to make videos. Hi Killua, hi Alluka and Nanika! We’re making lanterns—grandma, fold a lantern for them.”

“Okay then. It’s a very difficult job that must be done with the utmost accuracy,” she says, and then proceeds to light-speed folding a sheet of paper, wrinkled fingers moving fast to flat all creases. “And then, when you have the base, you blow inside it. Come on, Gon. My oxygen saturation isn’t good enough.”

“Which isn’t a scary thing to say at all,” Aunt Mito adds, but Gon is back at laughing. He pinches the sides of the paper and places his mouth around the hole, gently. It crinkles as it puffs. Abe’s lanterns are always the best, it’s a perfect cube.

“Here,” Aunt Mito says, and gives the phone back. “So whenever they come, they won’t miss the funniest parts.”

The next video is Gon and Abe juggling one lantern there in the living room until they knock down Ging’s photographs and Mito is laughing too hard—and too maniacally—to hold the phone upright.

They spend an overwhelming amount of time making presents, then—that’s how they call it, but it’s just filling up a couple old octopus traps with lots of extremely specific candies. Gon is pretty sure that Killua will appreciate it, especially considering he made sure to pick all the best chocolate ones and even some sickeningly sweet sweets that he would personally spit out.

For Alluka he bought chocolate too, but also the funniest stuff he could find, like fake candy rings and a giant lollypop that he can’t really manage to stick inside the trap and has to just tape on it.

“Everybody hates those, Grandma,” Mito says, but Abe still insists on adding some starfish-shaped fruitcakes that are just as traditional as they’re bad. And then it’s done, and there are paper lanterns and hyperglycemic presents and it’s time to go to sleep and tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

*

Gon sleeps exactly five seconds or so it feels from the moment he lays his head on the pillow to the moment the sun is already up and he’s jumping down the stairs and running in the kitchen.

“Time moves in weird ways when you’re waiting for something to happen,” Abe tells him, both hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea.

“I guess,” Gon says, and he’s bouncing. He steals one cookie from the plate on the table—it’s still warm, oatmeal and chocolate chips: Killua would die for them. Gon sits down in front of Abe, waiting for the kettle to whistle, and he really can’t keep his feet still.

“Do I have to sedate you?” Aunt Mito asks, walking in right in time to turn off the stove. “The first ship doesn’t come in another two hours at least.”

“Gon, dear, why don’t you go grab the blankets and my chair? I’m too old to sit on the sand.”

“But you’re not too old to eat all the cookies apparently,” Mito rebuts, as fast as Abe sneaks her fifth helper, neglectful of the level of sugar in her blood.

“One’s never too old to eat cookies,” Gon hears her say, when he's already running up the stairs. 

Abe’s chair is a small thing, cloth and wood to fold in half, easy to carry around. Gon lays it against the side of the cabinet as he searches for the less ragged rolled matting they own. Then he searches for the old, thick blanket they use for this purpose every year and when he’s gathered everything from the attic down to the first floor it’s barely nine in the morning and his phone is still dead.

He breathes. Finds that it’s actually a bit difficult to do so and breathes again.

“Gon, what are you doing.”

“Meditating my aura nodes open,” he says, without opening his eyes. He isn’t sure how much time has passed, but it’s probably not much. Aunt Mito mumbles something about how it looks like a bad idea to do that in the middle of the corridor, but doesn’t really scold him, which is nice until something appear right inside Gon’s mouth.

He doesn’t ask so he doesn’t choke; it’s a cookie and Abe is smiling behind it.

“It helps with concentration,” she says, absolutely sure.

Gon nods, thanks her and eats the cookie; then he slips inside his boots and yells that he’s going out for a walk.

Five leaps of the whole town later, Gon is sitting on the most solitary side of the dock, eyes closed.

He inhales salted air, clean and prickling, and tries to unclog his aura pores—it always feels like trying to dig through garbage from the drainpipe. It’s not easy and it’s not clean and it leaves him drained and time after time a bit more tired and frustrated, like trying to move a limb that isn’t there anymore.

At least it’s good to pass the time, because then it’s suddenly lunchtime and the last ship is preparing to sail away.

“Waiting for someone, Gon?” the captain of the Sea Urchin asks, eyebrows dancing and eyes still fixed toward the people climbing onto the ship. “A lady, maybe?”

“Well, there’s a lady too,” Gon says, looking at his impressive beard from down up. Alluka sure knows how to pull off colorful skirts and matching earrings, and that seems like a skill a lady should have to be called such. “But I’m waiting for friends, actually. They’re coming to see the lanterns.”

“Nice,” the captain says. “Yeah, I regret I can’t be here this time. I feel like the weather is just about right.”

Gon sniffs at the air—he's right, actually. It really seems that they’ll have a nice, cold night.

“And when are they coming? Last ship today is the Golden Clam and they don’t usually pick up passengers?”

Gon blinks, and turns back to the town. The big clock on the tower is ready to sign twelve. He frowns and then shrugs.

“They didn’t exactly tell me how they were going to come, but I’m sure they’ll find a way. They’re really resourceful.”

The captain pets his beard with his giant fingers and nods.

“Aye. Hunter friends, I presume?”

Gon grins. He waves at the passengers as the mariners pulls the ropes in and the ship takes the sea, lulling farther and farther in no time.

When it’s finally a big dot far away, Gon stretches both arms up in the air and yawns.

At one-thirty, the Golden Clam isn’t in sight. There’s still time.

*

At four in the afternoon Gon has: cleaned up his room to Aunt Mito's liking, tried a bit of everything she cooked, written something for his history essay in the hope that Killua will be able to help him make it look less like five tormented lines of dubious grammar and more like an actual elaboration on the topic of the succession war in Kakin—there’s just too many people involved and, Gon suspects, nen too because otherwise half of it sounds a bit too metaphorical. Then, he’s helped Mito and Abe cleaning up the kitchen of everything but the thick smell of fried food and spices and all three of them spent the good portion of an hour packing stuff inside a big basket for their picnic.

Abe nods at herself, a satisfied smile in place.

“All that’s left is tea. What tea do you want?”

“It’s too early for tea, Grandma, it will get cold inside the thermos too.”

“I meant tea to drink right now, dear. Don’t you want it?”

Aunt Mito doesn’t growl and Gon tries to not laugh too much.

They leave the door open in their wake just because they can. Mito helps Abe down the cliff and over the path that leads to the bay; it’s not the port, but the biggest beach still wild with rocks and plants and rough sand mixed with smooth pebbles.

Gon places Abe’s folding chair on the ground; she plops herself on it with a soft squealing of joints both human and metal, humming and waving at every passing townspeople as they come from the steep pathway off the cliff.

Small talks start and Gon didn't remember for them to be this awkward—yes he’s happy to be back; yes, he kinda missed all the good things on Whale Island; yes, the world really is a big vast amazing place but there’s no place like home—

“Every day you’re looking more like your father,” old Baru says, failing spectacularly to actually look at him through his monocle. When he’s gone, stumbling down to reach one of his grandchildren, Mito sighs and mumbles something about well-meaning, annoying acquaintances.

Gon rubs the tip of his thumb under his chin. He’s starting to get a hint of stubble, still too little to even think of uoogreing how the heck he should even do about it. It’s been a while since Killua sent him a selfie, he said he was going to just let his hair grow if Alluka wouldn’t learn how to cut it properly, since he doesn’t trust anybody else with a sharp object in his neck’s proximity…

“I’m sure they’re going to come.” It’s Mito, blanket still folded on her arms. She's waiting for him to help her lay it down. 

“It would be a pity,” Abe laments, but she’s grinning with all the teeth she has left. “If they come for real, there will be less fritters for us.”

Gon laughs and lets Mito scold her because, with her pressure problems, she shouldn’t eat fritters at all.

*

Once everybody has arrived, Mito’s exchanged cracked conch and squid pie with enough food to feed another couple of armies. Gon kept a plate of conch just for Killua and Alluka and he’s ready to fight for it.

“It’s almost time,” Abe says, when the sky is finally more black than blue, and not even the light from the fire is strong enough to keep playing cards.

“We can go closer to the bonfire and make another video if you like,” Mito says, sweet, and Gon feels extremely silly because his expression was sad for sure, even if he won the last two rounds at scopa. He shakes his head.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t clear enough with the date or with anything at all, really—We’ll free some lanterns for them too, maybe next year we can be more organized.”

“Okay,” Mito says and she’s still a bit too sweet, like she becomes every time she thinks that Gon is really upset over something. 

Is he? He’s just—it’s just a stupid celebration, he couldn't even properly explain himself, so maybe Killua didn’t even get that they should have been here early to send their lanterns in the Ocean. It’s just so difficult to talk over the phone. Gon can’t do it, he doesn’t know what words to use and how to talk if he can’t look Killua in the eyes—he used to love looking in his eyes, so blue, and he had the illusion that he could understand whatever was going on inside his head. Just another one of the bazillion miscalculations on his part—math really never was his forte.

“Here, this is yours and this is Killua’s…”

Mito bought candles of different colors and Gon laughs—his one is green and Killua’s purple and Alluka’s red. It’s pretty stupid and pretty nice.

“And yours?”

“I’ll take the orange one. Which one do you want, Grandma?”

“A pretty color,” she says, humming. “But I really like every color, to be honest.”

“You can have another green and we can match,” Gon tells her and she’s delighted. 

“You're two weirdos. You know that, right? Come on, let’s light these up,” Mito says, matches ready.

Gon’s the first one to move toward the seaside; the water is freezing cold on his feet and it wakes him up, which is good because apparently even after a two-year absence, he’s still regarded as the highest authority over underwater currents and weather.

The air smells just about right and the wind is so cold it prickles inside his nostrils.

“I think we can start,” he says, and simultaneously all the oldest, most seasoned mariners start to nodding and caressing their beards and licking thumbs to test the wind. Mito rolls her eyes.

“Honestly, you should just leave them pondering.”

Gon shrugs. He doesn’t mind being useful. Actually, that’s a very good feeling—at least he’s making the whole thing easier for everybody, so that’s nice.

The paper lantern weighs nothing in his hands; he sets it on top of the wooden base and the candle lights it up with a soft, muted glow. It’s all a matter of dumb luck, really, for it to survive the sea as long as it can.

Abe hums appreciatively.

“It’s always worth it,” she says, while Mito tries to convince her to just stay put instead of walking barefoot inside frigid waters in December.

Gon grins back at her, pebbles and sand clacking under his weight. He sets off Killua’s and Alluka’s lanterns and they get sucked fast toward his own, like they’re linked by an invisible fishing line.

He lights up one for Kite and one for Kurapika, because he always needs all the help he can get; and one for Leorio too, just in case.

Mito says “let’s not light up one for Ging, that would ruin everything” and half the beach laughs really hard.

In a matter of minutes the whole bay is overflowing with balls of light. Gon has seen some photographs taken by people from ships offshore, and it always looked like the side of the island was set on fire. 

“And off they go,” Abe says, tiny flashing dots inside her eyes as she frees the last of her lanterns. It’s fast to get sucked by the current to reach the rest as the waves become smaller and smaller and the sea flatter and flatter. The rumble of the undertow is growing louder as the ocean pulls back.

“Maybe this is the year we get a tsunami,” Abe says, with more excitement than fear, and Mito pinches her hard on the arm.

“We won’t get a tsunami, stop it. Let’s go now.”

Then it gets pretty pacey, because they have to climb back up on the side of the cliff and choose a place that won't be touched by water when the sea comes back.

“Look at the sucking. This year the tide will be huge,” somebody says and Gon can agree. Still, he chose a place that’s still fairly close to the shore. He’s pretty sure they’re going to be perfectly safe and if something happens, he’s also confident that he could just grab both Abe and Mito and take them to safety in no time. 

The lanterns are all lined up offshore, now, tiny dots like stars blinking in the black until they’re swallowed whole.

It’s just silly apprehension rooted into superstition, but the beach grows silent—if the lantern won’t come back, then it will be a bad year, a dangerous year of shipwrecks and shortage of fishes.

“The lanterns didn’t come back the year my son got lost,” Abe says, with the voice of someone accustomed to witnessing catastrophes; not particularly sad, just describing one of the ways the world seems to work, like lanterns too are some kind of indifferent natural phenomenon.

Mito shrugs in the dark, and it looks like a shiver.

“They did come back the year my parents died. Guess whoever it is that governs the world, they’re still pretty undecided on the rules—ouch, Grandma.”

Gon laughs and gets pinched too, because Abe is merciless.

“Well, now that all the serious celebrations are done, it’s time for fritters!”

Plates crinkle as Mito hands them out, naming every food like she’s at the market and needs to actually sell it.

“Squid pie!” She made it especially spicy just for Gon; and another one with way fewer spices, thinking of Killua, and thinking about it Gon feels a bit of a pang that probably doesn’t have anything to do with the absurd amount of bell pepper he’s choked on with just one bite.

“Too spicy, dear?”

“Nah, it’s awesome,” he says, eyes watering—exactly how he likes it, actually.

The night gets all chatty as people start drinking; Gon gets sucked in a game of charade and then he wins a tournament of rock-paper-scissors. The losers’ protests follow him back to the spot where Abe is already yawning.

Someone is singing closer to the beach; there a burst of laughter and usually Gon would be there—Aunt Mito always tells him to go but, for God’s sake, don’t drink what they give him.

Gon used to take a sip of this or that when he was younger, but tonight he doesn’t really feel like it. Alcohol isn’t that exciting and he never really gets what the mariners are laughing about at least half of the time.

“To another year!" Abe's offering the flask of hot tea she brought from home.

It’s still nice and warm. Gon wraps both hands around the glass and cheers with Mito too when someone from the beach yells that is in fact midnight.

“It’s technically still December, Grandma,” Mito says, but she drinks anyway and sighs, one hand rested on Gon’s knee.

“Back in the days, this used to be the New Year’s eve,” Abe says, self-assured. “We shouldn’t forget traditions only because globalization and major religions messed them up.”

“So your first sentence of the year is a jarring political statement. Duly noted.”

They drink more tea and eat chestnuts roasted on the bonfire; old Mauve brings them some coconut tarts and Aunt Mito gives back Abe’s cookies. They stargaze and play cards and yawn a lot, until Gon’s head is on Mito’s lap. She scratches his scalp, lightly and distracted, while he keeps his eyes fixed toward the sea. He feels like he’s closed them for half a second but then the stars have changed position and the air is so humid that for a wink he thinks the tsunami happened for real.

Abe opens up one eye too and she looks like a sleepy owl, all bundled up inside scarves and blankets.

“And here they come. Guess it doesn’t hurt, right?”

It doesn’t, even if Gon feels a pretty sympathetic pang inside his stomach at Aunt Mito’s unimpressed snort—it’s just lanterns, nothing more. Their soft glow rises up with the first tendrils made of pink and gold in a watered-down blue. 

It’s a cool view, the air is still and Gon likes being out here with his family, he can’t be much happier than this, right? This is nice, and right, and he’s glad. He won’t be selfish and he won’t think too much about how he would have liked for Killua to—

“What is that?” It’s a call from the shore; they’re pointing at the sea and Gon’s eyes narrow in sharp slits to focus—it’s still too dark to see anything more than cloudy shapes…

“It’s a boat… I think it’s a rubber boat?”

“Who would ever get on a rubber boat in the middle of the night—”

“It’s pretty fast.”

Fast is Gon too. He’s already running, following something foggy and thin, a thread that’s just a hunch and nothing more—but his hunches are usually right and so is the name he yells when his feet are already inside the water.

“Killua!”

And of course—heck, when did he ever fail to come? Killua never, ever failed to come. Even when Gon tried to push him away, Killua would always find his way back to him, this time with the sputter of an old motorboat, a million lanterns floating around and Alluka’s laugh jingling like a halo.

Both the underwater current and the engine’s traction aren’t fast enough; Gon is swimming way before Aunt Mito can yell at him to at least take off his clothes. The ocean is freezing cold and every stroke feels like breaking glass.

“You’re batshit crazy. He’s batshit crazy,” it’s the first thing Killua says—yells toward him and then back at Alluka. She’s squeezing the side of the motorboat, eyes green from the growing dawn and the glow of a hundred lanterns surrounding the boat in flock formation.

Gon shoves one away as he tries to come closer. Swimming against the current is going to wear him down fast, but the boat is coming closer just as quickly. 

“You came!” he says, and sputters when a wave hits him right in the face. As fast as he opens his eyes, Killua’s hand is already grabbing his to pull him out of the water.

“Yeah, it was just a bit more difficult than we thought. You know you’ve been completedly fucking isolated for a week?” he says. 

Gon’s clothes weigh a ton each and he starts shivering as fast as he’s out. Killua’s arms settle him inside, lingering for a whole second in what is unmistakably a hug.

Something ignites inside Gon’s throat as he hugs him back.

“How did—where did you get a boat?”

“We didn’t steal it,” Alluka says, grin wide. “I mean, we didn’t exactly ask for it, but I don’t think they’re going to miss it.”

“It’s a pretty old boat,” Killua confirms, looking positively smug. “The only ship we managed to catch didn’t exactly stop here. So we just came as closer as we could and took the boat. The captain said that the current would have probably brought us here—”

Gon coughs salted water and a laugh.

“You asked the captain—”

“Hypothetically. We asked hypothetically!”

“And I’m the crazy one, uh?”

“Brother can be selectively crazy when it matters,” Alluka says—Killua blushes pinker than the rosy dawn now way up in the sky with the first true rays of sunshine.

Alluka is glowing.

“You were right, Gon. This is so beautiful, I’m so glad we made it!”

“Yeah,” Gon repeats, but he really can’t stop looking at Killua. “I’m so glad too.”

“Well, you sure are right in time for the clean-up.”

They turn toward the shore and—they’re basically on the shore, the current stronger and stronger as they swing between waves and lanterns, some already wet and sinking.

They land on sand and rocks right before Aunt Mito’s feet. She’s wielding her butterfly net like a spear.

“Welcome back,” she says. “We have nets for everybody.”

*

The Longest Night really is the longest.

Killua is balancing the butterfly net vertically on the tip of his finger, eyes scouting the beach as Nanika jumps around letting out delighted yelps every time she manages to catch some garbage.

“So you. Like. Litter the sea and then feel so guilty you have to clean it up?”

Gon grins.

“It’s fun—I mean, for the most part. And it’s also useful to keep the beach clean in general.”

Killua seems pretty skeptical at the thought of Whale Island’s beaches being something less than immaculate at any given time, but that’s not even the point.

“Abe says that it’s a way to repay the ocean for the things it does for us,” Gon tries. The sand is humid and crunchy under his bare feet and it prickles when the wind lifts it up and shoots it on his calves. “It’s pretty rooted in superstitions I guess, but we take care of the beach and the island and we accept everything the ocean brings us. This way maybe he will give our loved ones back when they take the sea—” He feels the words dying on his tongue as he looks at Killua, eyes lit in the sunrise, salt on his skin and smell of all the places he’s been without him.

“What?” Killua asks, perplexed—and Gon finds out that his throat too feels parched with salt, and he can’t really explain.

“I’m so happy you came,” he says because yes, that’s the truest truth and maybe it isn’t enough, but it’s all is needed to make Killua blush redder than the very red starfish he caught in his net. Killua’s eyes are bluer than the sky and he’s the best thing the ocean could bring him, right? If he’ll say it aloud he’s going to sound clingy and needy and—he doesn’t want to bound him here. He doesn’t want to be selfish.

The sand crunches down toward the water and Alluka’s butterfly net swings up in the air as she jumps.

“Brother! Candies!”

“What?” Killua repeats, and he blinks at Gon like he’s looking directly in the sun before coming out of his stupor and shaking his head.

Alluka leaps closer, bag full of garbage bouncing in her wake.

“Oh, nice starfish, let’s free her before we go. Miss Mito says there are candies waiting for us at the house!”

“It’s a present from the Ocean,” Abe adds. She too was coming, slowly with her own butterfly net and pockets full of shells. 

“A present—wait,” Killua says, looking at her funny. “You mean the present is candies? You didn’t say that the present was candies!”

Gon feels his brow furrowing even if he tries to smile.

“Though you would have loved it?”

Alluka pats him on the head in the same way Nanika likes.

“Don’t worry, Gon. We brought presents too! But it isn’t candies.” Her sweet, sweet smile is too similar to some of those smirks Bisky puts up sometimes when she’s thinking about something a bit evil, but Gon can’t for the life of him understand what’s going on. Killua is blushing really hard. He mumbles something, but he’s back at searching for garbage on the beach until Aunt Mito doesn’t call them, one hand waving high and the picnic basket hanging from one arm.

*

Alluka is absolutely delighted by every single silly tradition Gon almost forgot in the couple years he was traveling with Killua—a couple years; so little and so, so much. 

It’s nice, rediscovering all those Whale Island things with him, just like the first time Gon took him to explore the forest and felt like everything was twice more exciting and twice more beautiful.

Abe fixes them all giant cups of eggnog and Killua laughs so much because “okay, so you just stay up all night and then get drunk first thing first in the morning, I dig that”, which earns him an affectionate ruffle of his hair from Aunt Mito. It leaves him shell-shocked for a bit, but maybe in a good way.

They empty the octopus trap on the coffee table; it's a candies overflow—“Aunt Mito used to fill it up in secret, so it looked like it was really the Ocean that brought all the stuff!” Gon explains, and it seems like both Killua and Alluka are trying and failing just as hard to understand the concept. At least they like candies, whilst Nanika loves the awful traditional fruitcakes so much Alluka has to leave her out to join Abe in munching on them.

Killua politely tries one with a very experimental bite, but when Mito too sputters her own inside a handkerchief he feels entitled to just knead the pastry into little balls and challenge Gon to see who can throw them more accurately inside their empty mugs.

Last one gets splattered right on photograph-Ging’s nose; Mito blinks, then hums appreciatively and grabs another fruitcake to try and do the same while Killua laughs maniacally, slumped onto Gon’s side.

It’s the best. Sit with Killua on the carpet, legs touching as he gesticulates to help Alluka recall some of their most recent adventures; his head falls back as he laughs and his shoulder brushes on Gon’s own; his grin ignites something deep down Gon’s stomach and it definitely isn’t the eggnog.

“Oh, the line’s back,” Gon says, when Alluka shows them some pretty awesome photos of the Golden Bridge from the United States of Saherta and his eyes catch the small bar lines on the screen.

“Yeah, you suddenly disappeared from existence? I tried to call, since you apparently told me all the most useless information instead—” He growls when Alluka pinches him hard on the cheek.

“Don’t be mean, brother! Everything turned out fine in the end… Oh, right! And we got presents for you too, since we didn’t understand the candies thing. Wait up!”

She’s buzzing with excitement as she bolts to go rummaging inside the pinkiest of their backpacks.

“Oh, you really didn’t have—” Mito starts, shocked, but she’s already being submerged by crinkling packets of different sizes and Alluka’s eyes are too big and sparkly when she flops another half a dozen into Gon’s lap.

He gapes and looks at Killua. He rolls his eyes but he looks proud of his sister.

“She just couldn’t decide.”

“Some are from Nanika too!” Alluka says, pointing at the ones wrapped with the clumsiest hands.

In the end, Gon unwraps a big bulb with an orange bud on top that’s supposed to bloom only once a year, a super cool kaleidoscope with views from different cities, a small underwater torchlight, a book with awesome wildlife illustrations, a not-so-abstract oil-painting of a colorful family of foxbears with Nanika’s sign in the corner—

Alluka finishes up showering Abe in gifts too and she turns to look back toward Killua.

“Brother, your present for Gon isn’t here, don’t forget—”

“I know, I know!” Killua cuts her, and he turns redder than Mito’s hair. She frowns and tilts her head, looking pensive for a second.

“Well,” she decides, she too buried into bracelets and books and scented soaps and foreign spices. “Thank you so much for all this… What about we go and take a nap, now? That’s traditional too. And after that we usually dine with leftovers and play some board games.”

Abe shakes the small wooden box that she unwrapped just right now.

“We’ll try my new domino."

Alluka looks delighted at the prospect, even if she yawns.

“Come on, time for a nap,” Mito decides. She stands up leaving crinkling paper in her wake. “Why don’t you boys clean up a bit here, while we go set the beds. Grandma, you’re coming too.”

It’s not an invite, Gon knows that tone; he watches her lead Abe by her elbow and drawing Alluka's attention by talking about maybe having a good bath with one of the super colorful bath-bombs she gifted her.

Killua is looking at his sister’s back with the softest eyes, enough for Gon’s stomach to do a double flip right then and there.

“She’s pretty easy to please,” he says, Alluka’s voice chirping enthusiastically, so so grateful that Mito would share one of her presents with her.

“It’s because you take such good care of her that she really doesn’t need much more, I think.”

Ops. He didn’t mean to make him blush—again. Or maybe he did, it’s just that he really doesn’t even know what he should do these days; he’s a fretting mess over every matter Killua even when he doesn’t surprise him by literally coming out of the ocean on a stolen boat to bring him presents—and being here, crouched down on the floor in between shreds of paper and candy wrappers, Killua looks like an unwrapped present too.

“You really have a present for me, Killua?” Gon asks—patience, patience. But with Killua you never know if you have to wait or just pry him open like a clam. Gon likes to think he has good instincts, but every time they part a bit longer he feels more insecure.

Killua’s blush intensifies; he scratches at his nose and mumbles something before clearing his voice.

“It’s nothing, really. It’s pretty stupid, actually. And it’s Alluka’s present too, I mean, she’s the one who’s good with this kind of stuff, if it was for me you would have gotten, like, a postcard or something.”

“I like it when you send me postcards,” Gon says. He collects them on his corkboard—Killua always chooses the silliest ones, with colorful writings and weird shapes; they’re Gon’s favorite out of all the ones he receives from their friends.

“Right. Guess you’re pretty easy to please too, uh?”

Gon grins.

“Try me!” he says, and turns to sit right before him, legs crossed and knees touching Killua’s own.

It doesn't last, because then Killua sighs and shifts to go search inside his backpack, perpetually stuffed with clothes. A package pops out with a pair of jeans rolled up thin and a bundle of extremely purple socks.

“Here.” He looks ready to just throw the thing into Gon’s face and run. Gon grabs it with the utmost care; it’s solid, and the paper crinkles under his fingertips. “It’s really is pretty stupid, I’ve warned you.”

The sound of ripped paper is so loud inside Gon’s head but not louder than the thumping of his heart. It’s—it isn’t a book, even if it looks like one. No, a notebook. One of the sturdy ones, spine a bit cracked and pages stuffed, colorful corners sticking out from the sides.

Gon cleans his hands on his trousers; he doesn’t really register another humble mumble from Killua, too eager to look inside.

The first photograph looks cut out from a brochure—it’s the advertising for some paragliding stuff that looks pretty awesome, sure, but doesn’t make much sense. Gon frowns and flips the page—another photograph, this time it’s from a newspaper maybe, it’s 'the Hell’s mouth, the biggest crater in the world', it looks scary and wild even in the black-and-white tones of the paper. Right under that there’s an article about the sighting of a 'water horse' in a pretty famous lake in Kukan’yu… and there’s more. Another page rustles as Gon flips it to discover new postcards and articles from magazines, and notes too, scribbled in Killua’s tiny, neat handwriting for pages and pages of material.

Ha raises his chin; he doesn't know what face he was doing, but apparently it was enough for Killua's own to turn a fiery shade of red.

“It’s… Are these places you went?”

“No,” Killua says, fast, words boiling from his mouth. “It’s places I haven’t been yet.”

Oh. The carpet feels itchy under Gon's feet, maybe it’s the salt still sticking to his skin. He feels lightheaded.

“So they're places you want to go?”

Killua looks honestly troubled; Gon would like to rub his thumb on his forehead to flat the deep wrinkle in between his eyebrows.

“Maybe. I—it’s a stupid present.”

“I’m just—what does it mean?” Gon asks and Killua just—he raises both hands to cover his face; his voice comes muffled from behind his palms.

“It’s a promise. No, it’s—an offer? If you want." He groans hard, but he lets Gon take his wrists and place his hands back down, even if he’s still determined to avoid eye-contact. "It’s just… I’m traveling with Alluka. And that’s cool, and I want to travel with her more, but she… I mean, someday she’s going to grow up. And she’ll want to do stuff on her own too and—I think that’s okay. I’m fucking terrified, but it’s the right thing so, yeah. And one day you’ll finish school, right?”

“I hope so,” Gon says, and that nervous laugh—he isn’t sure if it’s all about school, really. He's vibrating while staying perfectly still. “Yeah. I’ll finish it for sure.”

Killua nods, he’s looking at Gon's knees like they're carved with detailed instructions on how to swallow. Gon kinda needs them too.

“Then we could, you know. We don’t even have to actually wait for you to finish school—we could just go on a trip sometimes. And see some of these places—only if you want.”

It’s a promise—an offer. It’s everything Gon would ever ask.

He flips through the notebook once again, mouth dry.

“There’s a lot of blank pages.”

“Yeah. I thought—uh, it would have been selfish if I decided all by myself, so you should, like, add places you’d like to see too.”

“And if you’ve already seen it?”

“That’s fine. That’s—that’s really not the point.”

Yeah. That isn’t the point—the point is time. Time to spend together. It’s the only thing that really matters, the only one that will ever matter.

“Okay, then.” He doesn’t really—his brain is as mashed as those wet lanterns washed ashore on the beach or the tiny mushy balls of fruitcakes still splattered on Ging’s face. 

Killua is there, waiting, face once again a bit different like every time they don’t see each other for a couple months or more; once again just the same in ways that defy every growth-spurts, eyes bigger and bluer than the ocean; that perennial, worried line between his eyebrows—

“But I can accept this present only if you accept mine, Killua.”

The line deepens.

“You gave me candies. Or the ocean gave me candies—still hasn’t quite understood. But there was chocolate, so it’s fine. I love chocolate.”

Gon nods and then shakes his head. He knows what he has—what he needs to do. His mouth feels so dry.

“Yes. But—the fruitcakes were awful, I need to make it up to you for that.”

“Oh. Okay, but you really don’t have to—”

He can't believe he hasn't realized it before, but this is it. Traveling together, yes, but not just that. Not just that, and it has to be Killua. 

Killua’s eyes grow wide but he doesn’t move; there’s a whole second of panic—because the kiss lingers there but _he doesn’t move_ , and maybe Gon has screwed everything up—until the pressure bounces back and time restart and so does Gon’s heart, beating a million beats in a crowd of thumps, Killua’s lips pressed hard against his.

“This is rude,” Killua says, in a wheezing breath. “You outclassed my present.”

“So, should we stop?”

“Nah, that would be even ruder.”

Future time—future time for this too? Gon is pretty sure he’s the one who’s got the best end of the deal.


End file.
